Cities tend to grow, not only in population and area, but also climbing upon mounds of their own compressed detritus. Westcrown is no different and most of the city sits a dozen feet above the nearby river.
Even prior to it being walled up and abandoned, there were a couple dozen blocks within the Rego Cader that refused to rise up and stand firm. Perhaps it lacked a supporting skeleton of bedrock, or something more malevolent could have been at work. Regardless, this area, now known as the Sump, remains barely at sea level. Depending on the tides, the Sump is either merely stinking and muddy, or a treacherous morass threatening to swallow boots, tools and even the occasional house.
The area’s buildings are referred to grimly as the Chicken Coops, or simply the Coops. Nobody was willing to use valuable material on buildings that could topple or sink completely out of sight depending on the vagaries of the sucking earth. So the Coops are mostly constructed out of scavenged lumber and stand on bodged together stilts, often perched upon the shoulders of already sunken or collapsed structures. The Sump is all but impassable to anything other than foot traffic. The few bleak souls that still call the Rego Cader home, are loath to leave the relative cleanliness of wooden walkways that snake between crooked buildings on streets which are usually less than ten feet wide. Another interesting feature of the Sump is its complete lack of dogs.
A tribe of goblins are the Sump’s only willing residents, finding sanctuary and safety in this part of Westcrown where only the truly desperate live. The tribe has claimed a trio of houses which have slouched together in a small corner the locals call Sag End. The once two story buildings have become a chaotic warren both inside and out. Even small creatures have some difficulty traversing the multitude of ropes and planks that tie Sag End together. The interior was gutted early on (further depleting the buildings’ strength) and the majority of rooms are little more than glorified hammocks, interwoven with strips of leather, hide, and scavenged wood.
Grubnugget
After the traditional two years hanging in the Whelp Bags, Grubnugget began his life of scavenging and hunting and playing, trying not to become the subject of his older kin’s sadistic attention. Like all goblins, he took enormous pleasure in tormenting anything smaller than himself. Insects, snakes, lizards, the occasional careless rat or cat, all were tortured and tormented and used in cruel games. While other goblins never grew tired of inflicting misery on the creatures, little Nugget began to find himself fascinated with them. At first, it was how the animals were put together, then how they behaved when presented with different obstacles. Eventually, Nugget found himself following the animals and insects around, awed by how they lived from day to day and year to year. He learned to emulate the ways in which they could take advantage of their environment and began to hone his skills as a hunter.
A persistent rat’s nest was enshrined beneath the feet of Sag End, thriving on the accumulated garbage and sewage. A mat of noxious goblin filth, combined with Sag End’s own chaotic construction, protected the nest. After a couple intrepid individuals failed to return from hunting attempts, the rest of the goblins looked for less fortified prey.
After years of study, Nugget found that he could calm the vicious creatures and pass through their warren in relative safety. The little goblin spent days creating a bolt hole, and then strategically closed off all other avenues of escape from the rat’s den. He then piled loose rags and tinder in the rear of the hive.
The plan was to drive the terrified rats out of their nest and into the hungry clutches of his tribe. A few of the Rego’s curious inhabitants looked on in curiosity as the goblins massed outside Sag End in an impatient mass, all staring at a gap in the building’s foundation. A shriek of triumph was quickly followed by screams of panic as the first of a wave of rats charged out of the hole. With a wet burp, a corner of the building lifted off of its feet, and a green ball of flame spewed several dozen rats and a scorched Nugget into the street. One third of Sag End broke apart and slumped into the quagmire of ignited sewage that boiled within the mud. Those who looked on shook their heads with shock and amazement. There were mutterings that that only goblins could manage to light themselves on fire in a puddle of mud.
Sag End smoldered toxically for three days, covering all of the Sump in a choking, green fume. The goblins reclaimed the remainder of their hive and drove Nugget away with furious threats.
That day, Grubnugget was given a new name, KakaFlamm…S#!t Burner.
Now Nugget has taken to skulking through the alleys of the Rego Crua and further south into the Parego Spera. By day he hunts vermin and scavenges for his livelihood. The nights are spent barricaded in a sodden culvert, or perched midway down a silent chimney. Perhaps it is loneliness, more likely the little cretin is losing his tenuous grip on sanity. Whatever the reason, Nugget has a yearning to join the crowded populace of Westcrown. One night he finds himself looking on curiously as a disparate group of individuals whisper to one another cautiously and file into one Visio’s Tavern…
